


We Took a Nighttime Drive

by JadicusMuse



Category: Five Nights at Freddy's
Genre: Car Accidents, Post Sister Location, Theory Fic, michael does get hit by a car so, post ennard, post scooping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-18
Updated: 2020-05-18
Packaged: 2021-03-02 17:34:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,882
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24250663
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JadicusMuse/pseuds/JadicusMuse
Summary: When Kate was younger, she and her dad had this tradition of going out at night Fridays for fast food. One trip takes a slight detour when they come across a peculiar man whose car has broken down.
Comments: 6
Kudos: 29





	We Took a Nighttime Drive

There’s a tradition from when I was in junior high that I remember fondly. It involved me and my dad going out every Friday night for burgers and fries. It was the only time my parents ever let me wear PJs out of the house, so I’d lay in the backseat, all the windows down, listening to whatever was playing on Dad’s special cassette mixtape. We’d get our food and then drive around town, just enjoying each other’s company.  Each night entailed some new adventure but there was one night I remember in a lot more details than the others.

It was around 11 at night, sometime in August of 1989 I think. We were on a road just out of town and I had a book of puns I had gotten as an award in school; this was one of the only times my dad let me have the lights on in the car. I was reading them off to my dad, who was more or less unamused but chuckled and groaned at them all nonetheless. I was flipping through the pages, landing on one about squirrels or something like that when the car came to a rather quick stop, knocking the book out of my hands and onto the floor.

“Hey!” I groaned, sitting up and leaning over the front passenger seat. 

My dad leaned out his window and called out. “You alright?”.  I scrambled to my dad’s side of the car and peered out the backseat window. On the other side of the road, was another car, only dimly illuminated by our own car’s headlights. I heard the slamming of the hood of the car and a man’s voice called back to my dad.

“Alternator belt snapped!” He sounded British.

“Do you need us to go to town? There’s a tow place not far!” My dad asked.

“A ride-” The man cleared his throat, “Would be better. This piece of junk’s a rental." He kicked the bumper and the whole car creaked, "My car’s in the shop. I’ll deal with it later.”

Dad nodded, "Sure thing! Where are you headed?”

The man came into view as he began to cross the street, his stride unsteady and with a sickening sway. “Work I-",  No later than he could begin a car blared its horn, the man looked up, tires screeched a pick-up truck collided with the man, sending him skidding down the road and good couple yards

“Oh shit!” I whispered under my breath, covering my mouth with my hands.

“Stay in the car, Kate,” Dad ordered, hopping out of the car hastily and making his way over to the accident.

A man and woman had already gotten out of the pick-up and the woman was consoling a crying baby, watching over who I presumed to be her husband’s shoulder, looking at the man who got hit. He laid face down, his hands pressed to the pavement as a last attempt to stop him from making contact with concrete. I sneakily opened the car door, climbed out, and quietly closed it behind me. I walked over and stood next to my dad.

Dad groaned, “What did I say?”

“Sorry,” I said in a murmur. 

“Sir, are you okay?” The man asked him frantically, reaching for the shoulder of the car accident victim.  The man on the ground groaned, pushing himself up and spitting a tooth out onto the ground.

“Sir? What’s your name?” The woman asked, rocking the baby in her arms.

“Mike... Schmidt.” He turned himself over, covering his face with his hands.

“Do you need us to take you to the hospital?” The man asked again, outstretching a hand to Mr. Mike Schmidt.

“No,” He shook his head, helping himself up onto his feet.

The man from the pick-up stood up along with him, took one look at Mike and his expression turned cold, “Are you sure? You don’t look so well...”

“I’m sure, this is my brother and my niece. They can take me.” He gestured towards me and my dad. There was a long awkward silence before my dad caught on.

“Yes! We- Ah... We came to help him..." He seemed to be grabbing at straws, "-since his car broke down.” Dad agreed.

“But-” I quietly objectified.

“Hush, Kate.” Dad muttered, giving me the ‘death stare’. (You know, the one that tells you that you better shut your mouth in the next ten seconds or you’re gonna be sorry about it).

“Alright... Erhm...” The man looked at the woman with the baby hesitantly, “We’re... So sorry about hitting you.”

“Eh. I’ve had worse accidents.” Schmidt shrugged and chuckled, stuffing his hands into his pockets.

The woman laughed and smiled anxiously, heading back to their truck very fast.

“Y- You have a good night then.” The man said quickly, hurrying back to the car as well and speeding off before Mike Schmidt could say “You too.”

Mike looked over at my dad again, chuckled, and walked over. I could get a better look at him then. He wore a dirty red University of Utah sweatshirt, a pair of black pants, and dress shoes, peeking from the bottom of his sweatshirt, was a purple button-up. He was sickly pale, almost green, his eyes seemed dull and gray. His hair was greasy and unruly and he had bandages all over his face, neck, and hands.  He pulled his sleeves halfway down his hand before shaking my father’s.

“Mike Schmidt you said? I’m Hugh and this my daughter Kate." Dad introduced.

Mike looked at me and gave a yellow smile, “Nice to meet you both.” His voice had a strange echo to it.

“Are you from around here?” Dad asked.

“Mhm,” Mike nodded, “Hurricane, Utah born and raised.”

“Really? With the accent, I never would’ve guessed. Do you want _us_ to take you to the hospital?” My dad asked.

Mike shook his head, “I’m a pretty durable guy, trust me. I’ll be more than fine. I do still need a ride to work if you’re able.”

“Absolutely! I have some things in the passenger seat I’ll just have to move-”

I'm not sure why Mike was so interesting to 13-year-old me, but I chimed in, “No don’t bother,  He can sit in the back with me,” I said, still staring at the strange man.

"Kate..." Dad sighed.

"I don't mind, really." Mike laughed, scrunching his shoulders up.

“You sure? Kate?” My dad asked Mike and then looked at me.

I nodded, already heading back to the car, “Do you like puns Mr. Schmidt?”

I heard my dad ask Mike where we were taking him and Mike gave back an inaudible response that only my dad seemed to hear. And then they both headed to the car, my dad getting in the driver’s side and Mike getting in on the opposite side I was on. Dad started the car and rolled up the windows, I picked up my pun book and we were off.  I noticed the smell right away. It smelled like rotting meat and the cheap cologne your distant creepy uncle wears. Slightly fruity. It was Mike, and even though I was an asshole kid back then, I said nothing out of politeness and the avoidance of a lecture from Dad later.  There was a long moment of silence and then I handed the pun book to Mike, startling him slightly, “Pick a random page and read the first one.” I instructed him.

Mike did so, flipping through the book. His fingers had bandages on each joint as well and the tips looked almost green in the dim car lighting. He stopped on a page, cleared his throat, and read aloud, “I got hit in the head with a can of pop today. But it didn’t hurt because it was only a soft drink.” He scoffed, “Where did you get this?”

“School,” I said shortly.

“She won it for good attendance,” Dad added.

“Dad! Shut up!” I groaned.

“That’s good! Being on time is important when you’re an adult with a job.” Mike objected to my embarrassment, “You want to make money, right?”

“I do. Now read another pun!” I demanded, tapping the book.

“Hm okay…” Mike skimmed the page, running his finger along with the words, I was more focused on the band-aids on his face though, “A man went to a fancy restaurant, they asked him if he had reservations. He laughed and said, “No. I’m confident I want to eat here”.”

“Ha! I guess there are some funny jokes in that book, Kate!” My dad laughed.

“You just like dad jokes!” I rolled my eyes.

“I am a dad, aren’t I?” Dad looked back at me in the rearview mirror.

“Oh here’s a good one:” Mike said, “What's the difference between a poorly-” I droned out what Mike was saying, fixating on the bandaid on his cheek, part of me saying it would be rude to ask and part of me wanted to know. “Attire.” Mike laughed.

I _obviously_ wasn't going to actually ask him about it. But I thought it would be bright to find out myself without doing so. So stupidly I made a plan and quickly put it into action as Mike continued to read the book of puns, “It’s hot.” I announced loudly, leaning over Mike and rolling down the window. I pressed my hand into Mike’s face and making sure to 'accidentally' peel off the bandaid. (As I said, I was an asshole kid with not much regard for others). I cringed as I did so though because his skin was cold and _soft._ Soft almost like Play Dough. I leaned back, shaking my hand to rid it of the feeling.

“And you couldn’t have used your side’s window, Kate?” My dad groaned, “Sorry Mike.”

Mike looked panicked, “It’s ah- It’s fine don’t even worry about it.” I looked at him as he frantically looked on the seat for his bandaid, turning his head just enough to see- Wires. Wires were coming out of a hole in this man's face. He grabbed his bandaid, plastering it back onto the hole.  I remained silent for the rest of the drive, my heart beating a thousand miles a beat.

“Here we are. Good ol Freddy Fazbear’s Pizza.” Dad said in a caricatured, happy tone.  I looked out the window quickly, then back at Mike, who was mid pulling off his sweatshirt. His midriff showing off what looked to wire holding his stomach together. I panicked to myself even more.

He was wearing a purple button-up with the Fazbear Logo on the shoulder, and a black tie, he pulled a badge with his name out, pinned it to the shirt, and smiled at both of us.“Thanks so much, I would've been late if not for you. Have a great night both of you, stay safe!” Mike waved as he exited the car.

"You too!" Dad waved back and we pulled away, I pressed my face to the glass, staring at him until he was out of view.  “That guy smelled so awful. I felt so bad.” My dad sighed and laughed, “Aren’t British to be clean and proper and all that?”

“Yeah...” I agreed, staring out my window, still dazed and slightly nervous.

**Author's Note:**

> The design of Michael is heavily inspired by that of Melinda Hendrix on Tumblr!  
> https://meldrix.tumblr.com/post/177643903605/i-wanted-to-do-a-costume-breakdown-so-i-drew


End file.
